


Yes

by pjordha



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: Community: femslash_today, F/F, Femslash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-30
Updated: 2012-10-30
Packaged: 2017-11-17 09:36:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/550157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pjordha/pseuds/pjordha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the dungeons of Wolfram & Hart,  Illyria encounters a lone werewolf as the sun begins to rise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Yes

When it’s late/early, when the demons are out feeding and the secretaries have yet to arrive, Illyria sometimes roams the halls of Wolfram & Hart. It’s quiet then, before evil wakes up, before the lawyers arrive. This night, no one’s afoot save the night watchman—an Islorl demon with bioluminescent skin—and the firm’s resident captives down in the dungeons.

Illyria follows her heightened senses to the only movement in the cells—to Nina. She watches, somewhere between bored and mildly interested, as a massive mound of grayish brown hair barely moves in the darkness, lit only by fading light of the full moon coming from the cell window.

“You are restless tonight. As am I,” Illyria states, cold blue eyes following the barely discernable shoulders, hindquarters and tail of the beast. “I wonder if you understand me in this form, if you’re capable of human intelligence—such that it is—when you are subjected to such a deplorable state.” Nina growls lowly and scratches her sharp claws against the metal bars. “In your human shape you…smell much better.” What passes for a laugh slips from Illyria’s lips as she crouches down, grabbing the cold bars in both hands, as if she needs help to steady herself. “Of what does a werewolf dream? Perhaps you think of Angel and his ridiculously gelled hair. Or of blood, of the thrill of the hunt. Of feasting on human flesh.” Illyria sits down, closes her eyes. “Mm. Those are always good ones—”

It happens so fast that even Illyria doesn’t see it coming. The werewolf’s teeth are sharp, and if Illyria weren’t an Old One, was merely a lowly vampire or, worse, a human, she would have lost a hand or entire arm instead of a thin shred of flesh. The pain barely registers; it would take more than 6 inch razor sharp teeth to cause her to react. She looks down at the human blood trickling from her hand.

“I bleed,” Illyria states, head tilted, as she watches the blood slow, the cells reassemble, ready to rapidly heal. “You have bitten me. Interesting.”

“Oh.” It starts as a low howl, and as the moon disappears and the sky starts to lighten, the howl turns to a moan. “Mmm. Wh…who’s…Illyria?”

“Yes, Nina. You’re human.” Illyria stands up, holds her wounded hand out as if to a dog ready to meet a new friend. “I bleed.”

“Damn it. S-sorry.” It’s still dark; only when Nina stands, stretches, and approaches the bars does Illyria notice that the werewoman is fully naked. “Did I hurt you?”

“It’s just a—” Illyria isn’t accustomed to not finishing her sentences, is certainly unaccustomed to naked human women taking her hand, lifting it to full human lips and quickly sucking. The wound has completely closed up, but it’s still tender, and Illyria feels something strange, like a tiny electric itch racing from the Burkle hand to the Burkle chest to somewhere beneath the Burkle waist. More interesting.

“Sorry, it’s just…blood. I’m still…smells so good.” Nina moves closer to the bars, and Illyria, out of curiosity, takes a step closer as well. The woman’s odor is strong; more human, but not quite beast. It emanates from her armpits, beneath her breasts, between her legs. It’s musky, it’s sweet. Not completely unpleasant…for a human. And Nina’s mouth on her hand is not entirely unpleasant, either. Nor her tongue.

“It pleases you to do this. Blood rushes to your erogenous zones.”

Nina laugh-growls, presses herself to the bars, her full breasts squeezing through to graze Illyria’s body. “Can’t help it—the moon.” She smiles and lifts her hands to Illyria’s brown/blue hair. “Do you have, um, erogenous zones?”

“Is this a trick question?” Illyria is answered in warm-blooded hands on her cold blue face, across icy lips, and fingers inside her mouth. She considers biting the werewolf—would it taste human? would Angel approve?—but finds it more satisfying to just let the digits stay in her mouth. She sucks them experimentally, and smiles when Nina growls and wraps a long hairless leg around an iron bar.

“Keep doing that,” Nina whispers as her free hand slides down between her legs. Illyria watches, and suddenly images of Nina pleasuring herself intermingle with flashes of the Burkle body in similar situations—soothing herself in Pylea, aching for Angel, performing for Gunn, yearning for Wes—with fingers and mechanical devices bringing her genitals to life. Not entirely unpleasant.

“Continue.” Somewhere in the outer cell there’s a key, but Illyria simply pulls the cell door from the hinges to get to Nina. The floor is cold and hard, but Nina’s used to sleeping there, used to fucking herself there, and lays back on it with no hesitation. She places Illyria’s hands to her breasts, pulling the Old One down between her legs.

“Moisture emanates from your introitus,” Illyria explains, her breath coming fast and shallow, for some reason. “Your nipples harden. Your vulva flushes and opens like a flower.”

“Yeah.” Nina arches her back, pressing her sex against Illyria’s strange armor-cum-flesh. “Does yours?”

It’s a question better put to another time, when Nina isn’t wrapped around her, heat emanating from her every pore. Mimicking the humans she’s observed in the break room—and on the daily soap operas—Illyria lowers herself to taste the human’s lips. The kiss is palatable; she wants to taste more. It’s nothing to hold the woman’s arms down above her head to taste the skin at her neck, her belly. In her former glory she would have merely consumed the woman’s entire body in one gulp, but the Burkle lips only afford her access to one breast at a time. Nina’s hips come off the cold floor, her thighs spread, and her scent overwhelms Illyria’s nostrils.

“Yes. You want me to—” The musk is strongest between Nina’s legs, where it’s warm and wet and pink and hairy. Illyria investigates with her fingers, her nose, her lips. She’s so busy learning that she doesn’t even mind when Nina grabs at her hair and pulls. “The human clitoris’ only function is for pleasure. Yes.” The bud feels golden in her mouth, and as Nina comes apart in a flurry of moans and muscle contractions, Illyria likens it to the ecstasy of her time, when she ruled with iron hand, and her legions worshipped her in body, mind, and blood. She sits back on her heels, eyes glued to the spent flesh between Nina’s legs.

“My turn. Yes.”

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for the Green Beer & Kisses: The [Totally Not] Annual femslash_today Porn Battle 3/20/2011
> 
> Copyright Pjordha 2011


End file.
